Ink and Fire
by Svaneaalka
Summary: As he watched his deepest secrets being turned into ashes, he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A.U; Yaoi; Incest; ItaSasu; Some NejiSasu; Lime; Lemon; Slight Sakura bashing.


**Warnings: Yaoi; Incest**

**A/N: Yes, another ItaSasu. Though, this one will be a lot shorter than NR -which I should be working on the next chapter instead of writing this... But oh, well, I had this random idea and couldn't help it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.**

**It may contain some errors, but... anyway,**

**Enjoy!**

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Smell of sulphur could be felt in the air as the small flickering flame in the tip of the match stick was reflected on onyx colored eyes.

This was the beginning of the little 'ritual' he had created to get rid of his frustrations.

Slowly he brought his hand with the match stick towards the papers over the porcelain plate on table, making the tiny fire spread and grow. Thin lines of smoke arose as orange flames burned to ashes the three notebook pages, and Sasuke watched with comtemplation his deepest thoughts written with the blue ink of the pen disappearing as if they had never existed.

He did that everytime his thoughts became unbearable, in those times when for some reason he felt at the verge of going insane; he would write telling about every little thing that would be bothering him. Each complaint would fill the lines of the pages until he felt his mind in peace again.

Was not like having a diary. Sasuke Uchiha will never be caught with such shameful object hidden among his belongings. He was not a romantic naive girl dreaming of the famous Perfect Prince on the white horse. Even despite the fact the person of his dreams could be easily named as perfect. He was too prideful to own something that was so related to such stereotype. He didn't need to read and re-read several times whenever he wanted all what he had written, that was pointless. But most of all, he didn't want to take the risk of someone finding and reading it, or on the worst case, even exposing it. Especially his older brother, the person who had the main role at plaguing his mind. However, this time was not Itachi the one who caused him to write until his hand hurt - not directly at least, but Neji Hyuuga a guy with whom the younger had been 'dating'.

They had been going out for the past few months and could even be labeled as boyfriends, though, Sasuke didn't like using that word to refer to them. He felt nothing for Neji. He was just a friend whom Sasuke judged worth enough to relieve great part of his sexual needs. On the other hand, Neji liked him, and although they had a high level of physical intimacy with each other, both boys were still virgins, which was not out of commom once Sasuke and Neji were fourteen and fifteen, respectively. And therein lies the problem. The older boy wanted to take the next step in their relationship and change that condition. But for the younger, that idea was far from being the most thrilling of the century. Was not like he was afraid, awaiting for the right moment when he would be ready or something. Sasuke was not like a romantic girl, remember?

He wanted it. He just didn't feel like doing it.

Perhaps this could be compared to those times when you have something important to do but keep procratinating because you are too lazy. Yes, those times when your body, mind and emotions act individually, fucking up everything in their way while doing so. For Sasuke, the mere thought of having sex with Neji, sent a little pang of guilt within him, like he was betraying the one he actually loved and lusted after. Though, due to the fact that the person he most desired was his older brother just made all those feelings and everything else more pointless than writing in a stupid diary. Because no matter how close they were of each other, Itachi would always be too far from his reach.

Sasuke gazed at the last piece of paper being slowly consumed by the fire and heaved a sigh as if his problems had been destroyed alongside with it, and a burden lifted from his shoulders.

He knew it was all a distraction; a silly way to keep his mind away from the real thing, but he didn't mind doing it if in the end it helped him think clear.

The raven haired boy grasped the plate on the kitchen table, the material was heated, but nothing he couldn't handle. He carried it to the trash can to throw away the ashes, cleaned it, dried it, and put the plate where he had previously found it. Looked around to see if everything was in order and walked over to open the window to let the fresh air dissipate the faint smell of smoke that still lingered in the room.

His brother will be home soon.

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**Criticism and suggestions are appreciated. Thanks for reading c:**


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